Bone Dry
by PlanetOfTheWeepingWillow
Summary: By chance the Brain, Matthew, meets the bad kid, Gilbert. An unlikely friendship quickly forms between the two and they start to mend one another's wounds. PruCan, human and Highschool AU, T
1. The Principal's Office

**1. The Principal's Office**

Point of advice: never shake hands with a man on fire.

This is very obvious because a) the fire could then be transferred to you and b) the man most likely has better things to do than shake your hands; such as, for example, putting out the fire going on.

But what if the fire is metaphorical? What if the "fire" is actually your goodness or your badness? What if you shake a bad man's hand and then that badness gets on you?

What if you're on fire?

I thought of this, sitting in that white room, and realized that it's pretty silly. I'm fairly certain that merit of character is not transferable, especially by a handshake. Or maybe the handshake is also metaphorical? Maybe it signifies just talking to the man or woman at hand.

Furthermore, don't play with fire.

I smiled at the thought and played with my shoelaces. I was in the principal's office, for the umpteenth time, because I did something real bad. I don't exactly know what I did. Well that's a lie. I did a lot of bad things that could have gotten me in there, but I don't actually know which straw broke the so called camel's back. Sitting next to me was a shy looking kid. His hair was tawny and very curly, the kind you want to run your fingers through but when you do a bunch of the thin hairs would come off and stick between your fingers. He kept pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, fidgeting with something. His books were piled high on his lap.

"Hey." I said.

He looked up at me, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. His lips quivered and turned into a smile. "Hi," he said and turned back away. His face crimsoned.

"What do they call you?"

"Excuse me?"

"What's your name?"

"Matthew." After a moment of examining me, he managed to ask what my name was.

"Gilbert," I replied, nodding. His eyes flicked over my appearance again, taking in the denim jacket, rugged flannel, ripped jeans, and dirty shoes. I wore what I could. I usually wore a lot since I probably won't see these things again if I leave them at home.

I told him this.

"Do your siblings steal them?" Matthew asked in a polite voice.

I shook my head. "No. I have a little brother but he's hardly ten and he wouldn't dare touch my clothes."

Matthew laughed. "My brother can't take my clothes. He's on the football team, so he's much bigger than I am. Nothing I wear fits him."

I didn't understand why he laughed at me. I scowled at him and raised my fist. He cowered and went back, raising his hands in front of him. My hair, white, a real source of disappointment for me, fell in my face.

"I'm sorry," Matthew said.

Because I was already in the office and because a bunch of eyes on me and because one more "straw" will break the camel's carcass's back, I lowered my fist and brushed that hair from my eyes. My eyes were red. Another real disappointment. Jennifer, my "counselor" told me not to write "disappointment" anymore since it "lowers my self esteem". She also said not to use quotation marks anymore, but how else am I supposed to indicate what I don't really understand? She said I should keep them strictly for speech. If you ask me it's kind of stupid. Anyway, but she's my guidance support so I have to take her word for it, even if I don't righteously agree. She also said to talk about my feelings more.

Okay, that I'll do Miss Jenny.

When Matthew said sorry I was still really mad but I was also confused, like a rope was around my chest and digging into my skin. It hurt, kind of like when dad yells at me.

"Why were you laughing at me?" I asked Matthew.

Matthew scratched his arm. The skin turned red and his nails, a little too long, made a nasty scratching sound. "I thought it was funny that we have that in common. I'm sorry."

"Stop saying sorry so much."

"I'm sorry."

"Are you laughing at me fu—" I stopped because I'm not allowed to use bad words in the office. I did once and I got in more trouble. Jennifer said that I should hold back on that.

"No, I'm just a compulsive apologizer." Matthew explained.

Goddamn, the principal was taking forever. I leaned forward and looked into the rectangular window. Through a crack in the blinds I could see his desk. Some girl was in front of him. From the way she shook and the pile of tissues I supposed she was crying real hard.

"Why are you here? Aren't you one of those academic kids?" I asked Matthew.

"I'm here because I want to be."

"Why the he—heck would you do that?" I said. My scowl lengthened.

"It's my choice." His cheeks got redder and his eyes, behind those ugly glasses, narrowed.

Jennifer said I shouldn't call his glasses ugly. But boy, let me tell you. They were some nasty bottle-cap-thick or whatchamacallit glasses that made his eyes all fuzzy and distorted. They didn't fit him too well and kept falling, like your narrator humbly told you.

"Well, whatever."

He didn't say anything.

You see, I don't really like it when I have to wait for someone to tell me something. Usually I just punch them until they spit out something and break the silence but I was, again, in the office and I also was starting to like the Brain.

I decided at that time to call him the Brain, since he's so smart. I thought it was pretty clever. It's better than what they call me.

"Gilbert?"

"Yeah?" I looked back at him. More hair fell in my face. I brushed it away, digging my fingers into my bangs and driving them back.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I was wondering why you were here."

"I don't know. I did cut off this girl's hair since she was stealing my notebook, and I wrote a message on this one kid's locker, and then some kid was callin' me one of those derogatory names so I gave him a piece of his mind. You see?"

Matthew nodded. He caught on fast. I started to like him more and more. I got butterflies twirling in my belly, making a mad flurry and making me somewhat sick. I didn't really like it. I felt like hitting something.

He shifted the books in his lap. He had a lot of books there, and a book bag by his side too. It looked like it was pretty hefty, from the way it made his shoulder sag and how he kept hitching it up with his thumb.

"Why do you have all these things with you?" I asked him.

He didn't respond.

"I was talking with you." I said and flicking him in the forehead. He hardly winced, only leaned his head back an inch.

He still didn't say a thing.

"Come on. Don't you have a locker or something? Or are you one of those people who can't bear to part with anything?" I had nothing with me anyway, since I was excused from class for this.

He still refused to respond.

I was about to beat the answer out of him, he was making me mad, but the door opened. The girl who was crying came out, her eyes puffy and a tissue to her nose. She looked at me and squeaked in fear, turning away and rushing out. The principal stood in the doorway, giving me a nasty look and calling Matthew on calmly.

Matthew stood up, grabbing his things. The principal stepped back.

Matthew looked me dead on and said; "Alright, if you must know, I have all my things because I don't plan on coming back."

"You're moving school?" I asked, frowning. I didn't like this. Just when I started to actually take to someone.

"No. I'm moving worlds."

"Come on, you can't do that! Why?" I stared, getting madder. I was sure my face flushed.

"I have no friends."

"What am I?"

I didn't realize what I said until it slipped from my mouth. I already decided this kid was a friend? But before I could stop myself and before the principal could clear his throat impatiently, I said:

"Look, Matthew, you shouldn't do this. I have a shitty life all the time, twenty-four seven. I do it all the time, everyday, every year. You know what I get for my birthday? A punch in the face. You have the brains. You have the football player for a brother. And if you need friends I'll be your friend."

Matthew didn't move. The principal stared at me. I guess he never expected me to be all gentile like. Mathew's mouth worked, trying to find something to say.

Eventually, after what felt like twenty years, Matthew nodded and stepped back.

"I think I'll reconsider."

No way it could have been that easy. I thought.

Then again, I didn't know Matthew too well at the time.

* * *

_I do not own Hetalia_


	2. Too Fast

**2. **

**Too Fast**

I'm writing this book because it's the last thing they can give me before the options are all run out and I have to hide behind bars. Jennifer is monitoring me as I do it. She just makes sure I'm actually doing it and she gives me tips. She wanted to write a book once. She wrote so many stories as a kid, apparently none made it big time. It's a shame. She's a nice person. She's patient and she doesn't yell at me like everyone else does. Most people either hit me across the head or ignore me, or better yet they yell at me and I hate that. My little brother doesn't say anything which is worse. I try talking to him but he doesn't respond.

Jennifer told me also not to curse when I write. I'll do how I goddamn please, but I can understand why a reader wouldn't want to read a thousand this and that curse words on a page since it feels like you're being cursed at. Or maybe that's stupid.

What else is stupid is what I did after the principal's office. I went out and smoked. I started when I was thirteen. Dad shoved it at me and said "better start now, kid". It was horrible and my lungs felt compressed and dying but I got hooked anyway. I quit when I entered high school but now I started again. I stood in the back of the school where a group of kids in denim and leather and black clothing and make up exchanged a cigarette too, giggling like it was the best thing they ever did. I turned away and tried not to look at them.

One of them, a short girl with black braids going down either shoulder, went up to me. Her breath stunk. She lingered by my side and asked if I was Gilbert. I said I was. She laughed at me and pointed at my face while looking over her shoulder. The stupider part of that was that I got angry and ran away. I didn't feel well. Matthew was in my thoughts like a heavy cloud that refused to lift and remained stagnant. I went through the halls, snuffing the cigarette on the ground outside of it, and looking through. It took a while but I finally saw that tawny head bobbing in a sea of teenagers.

He was setting his books in his locker. A pile was at his feet, some papers sticking out. The bottom of his locker was a mess of broken pencils and index cards. I went over and picked up one of the heavier looking books. It was an AP calculus book. He must have been crazy smart. I later learned that saying that was a total understatement.

Matthew looked over at me, his thick eyelashes batting prettily, and thanked me. Some others lingering nearby pointed and laughed like the braid girl. I shot them a nasty look that shut them right up. I spent the next fifteen minutes, after school, and helped him organize the locker. The bell had long ago rung and no one but a few teachers remained. Some of the sports kids were noisily rushing around on the lower levels.

"Thank you," Matthew said, shutting his locker and setting the lock to zero.

"No problem." I said. I was really close. He scrunched up his nose when I said that. I guess he smelled the smoke. I felt sorry for picking that damn cigarette from the recesses of my locker. I still had to pick up my things but I didn't care one way or the other. That is, until I said the next thing: "Hey, you're crazy smart and I'm having trouble with geometry. Do you think you could help me out?"

"I've never tutored before." Matthew said, holding his backpack stuffed with homework to his chest. Then he hitched his thumb in the sling and swung it around his back, securing it there.

"That's fine. I guess you'll learn how to teach as you do it." Why did I want him to help me? I hated math. I didn't care if I failed it. This kid was doing weird things to my brain.

"I suppose so… Are you free tonight?"

"Yes."

"So am I. My brother will be at a game and my parents will be there. They didn't buy me any tickets so I suppose I have nothing to do."

"We missed the bus, then."

"Oh, no, I walk home. That or Alfred, my brother, picks me up in his car."

"Shall we head on?" I asked in my gentleman-voice.

He laughed. His laugh was chipped and broken but it was the sweetest laugh I ever heard. Damn was I falling hard for the kid. I tried not to show it. I tried to bottle it up since I doubted he liked me at all. Even if I helped him and he hadn't received any of my signature beatings personally he probably didn't trust me. Plus, he was the kind of kid me and my posse sought out when we felt edgy.

Matthew led me to his house and when we passed my locker I grabbed my things lightning-fast and followed him wordlessly. I decided that I didn't have any luck with him and my best course of action would be to shut up and forget I ever had any soft feelings. I wasn't a kid who had soft feelings anyway for anyone. Not even my brother.

We went through the field. Matthew said nothing and I didn't start any conversation. I hitched my thumbs in my pockets and stepped over the prickly grasses and avoided the ditches. Matthew pushed open a fence and then led me down a winding neighborhood. Finally he came up to his quaint little home painted beige. He produced a key from his pocket and pushed the door open.

"Want a drink?" he asked.

"I'm good."

"Make yourself at home. I'll have a snack and you can find my room." He described how to find the room, the last door in the hallway to the left. I went down it and examined the house. It was a common suburbia place, paintings with no real significance lining the walls, the furniture wasn't bad but it wasn't exactly exquisite. I reached the end of the hallway. There were two doors. One door had college flags and all sorts of decorations on it. The other had nothing but a black ribbon on the door handle. I pushed that door open, since I doubted Matthew would cheer on any teams, and entered. A single bed was in the corner, a dumpy computer in the other. There were no posters but there were books everywhere. I pulled the desk chair over and plumped down on it heavily, staring up at the ceiling. I could hear Matthew scuffling downstairs like a mouse, scratching at the cupboards and finding food. I heard something open and something else fizz.

Matthew came back upstairs, shoes off, and sat down next to me. He had a bottle of coke and a pack of dried mangos. He set them on the table and told me to try them. I picked up the mango. It was soft and looked like a severed tongue if it were so pleasant. I tried it and boy, heaven in my mouth. I think I reached nirvana then. The juice exploded from that dry sack of bliss. I had another one and then another and Matthew laughed.

"You like them?" he asked just as I prepared to beat him to a pulp.

I paused, my fist still clenched, then nodded slowly.

"What do you have trouble with?"

"What?"

"What do you need help in?"

I didn't understand that he was referring to geometry until he nodded at my bag. "Oh. I just need some help with exterior angles and that shit."

He helped me work on it for some time. He was patient and methodical. He never yelled at me either. He spoke softly and pointed me in the right direction. I felt stupid but by the end of that first hour I started to feel a lot better.

"Let's take a break." Matthew said and pushed away from the desk. He had borrowed the desk chair from his brother's room.

"Yeah," I yawned and fiddled with the pencil.

Matthew took a sip from the bottle.

"Why are you so nice to me?" Matthew asked at last.

"Huh? I just don't know. I kind of felt a kindness to you. Mainly because you did me no wrong before. I'm not gonna be mad at anyone who hasn't done me anything bad. It's not right."

He had instigated a whole new branch of something I don't understand. "Why are you so nice to me, then?" I asked him when he made a mumble of affirmation to the previous comment.

"You're the first person who ever decided to be my friend." Matthew gave me a smile that people give when they're about to cry. I know it well. I've done it a thousand times before.

"Oh," I said dumbly.

"And I'm nice to you for that reason. You saved my life, you know."

"Yeah but what the hell do you have to die for? You have everything. You have a good house, a good sibling, a good family, and a good brain. The hell are you complaining about?" I was yelling. I didn't realize that either until he was cowering. I don't realize these things in time. Besides, I felt that I had intruded on something. "Nevermind. I'm sorry. Forget what I said."

We parleyed on some other things instead. He said that he was fluent in French because his uncle took care of him most of the time. I said that I knew German.

"That's so cool," Matthew said, grinning. "You should teach me."

"I'm a horrible teacher."

"You got me to teach you." Matthew looked back at the book and decided that the break was over. He took me through another lesson, the one we would be doing next in class. He said that getting a toe into the lake before he was forced to jump in during class would help me.

It started to get dark. The light drained from the sky and Matthew said his parents would be home at any minute. He looked right scared when he said that. I guess he didn't think I was a fit friend for him. I respected that. As I gathered my belongings and wondered what new torture awaited me at home, I asked him out on a date.

I stopped stone cold.

Those words had really exited my mouth.

"Would you go on a date with me?"

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit.

Matthew turned crimson.

"We just met."

"I know. That's why I wanted to go on a date with you so I can learn more about you."

"Yes."

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow. It'll be a surprise."

I quickly vacated the house and ran outside. Matthew was in the window, looking down at me. I waved and he waved back. He reminded me of something from a play I was forced to read some time back. He looked a bit like Juliet during that infamous balcony scene, where she decides that she wants to marry Romeo since he sweet talked her and climbed up her balcony. If I were a glove to touch that cheek… or something like that. But Matthew's older than Juliet and I'm no Romeo.

I went home with this hot feeling in my stomach, like a white fire burning. I didn't think I could get that lucky, and especially so soon. Since it was so fast and I was so impatient I doubted it would last. He'd probably stand me up. Maybe he won't come to school the next day. A thousand thoughts raced through my head and when I lay down on my shabby bed, my hands behind my head, and my face to the ceiling and my feet cold where there was nothing on them I could still taste those mangoes and I could still see his face and I could feel so happy that maybe things weren't so bad after all.


	3. A Very Special Place

**3.**

**What They Said To Him**

X

**A Very Special Place**

He was late. It's honestly pretty surprising since I thought I would be the one to either be late or stand him up. But, no, I came a few minutes early. It was fifteen minutes passed five, the hour in which I was supposed to see him here at the café, at the address I had scrawled on a piece of paper and given him secretly at the end of the day.

It wasn't what I had told him I would do, but I did do something. I even looked back and he was looking at the paper then at me, so I know he knew it was me and that he got it. Maybe he couldn't get here. Maybe his parents realized what he was doing and told him not to go. Maybe his brother had a game and he was invited that time. Or, what I thought was more likely at the time: he didn't come out of his own choice. He refused to come out of his own choice. He probably just wanted to stay home or he realized that I'm a bad person and that it was a better idea to stay home. Either way it hurt. I sat at the café, in the far back away from the smoking couple and the racy waitress circling the people like a vulture watching her prey. It wasn't a shady café, but it was cheap. It was cheap enough that I could afford it on my measly paycheck from my job at a gas station. Maybe he knew it and was too frightened to come near.

Looking around again I thought that yeah, he wouldn't fit in. There was a group of teens from a school not our own with psychedelic colored hair and piercing in any place they could put them. One of them, a bony boy with a dragoon tattoo down his arm, looked especially mean. Maybe if he saw the geeky, normal-looking brain here he would hound on him. But I couldn't judge people by their appearances, but I needed something to do. I imagined him hounding Matthew and me, standing up real tough, and hitting him square in the nose. Matthew would look at me all happy and maybe give me a kiss. Now, a kiss was going too far. I was getting ahead of myself. I obliterated these thoughts, which believe me was really hard to do, and decided that he was a friend and nothing more. With that I gave it all up.

He was thirty minutes late. A half hour had gone by and still no sign of him. The racy waitress walked over to me and asked if I wanted to drink something. I forgot that they had neglected taking my order. "Not yet, I'm waiting for someone." I said.

"Alright, honey, but if you need anything just call." She winked, her black eyelashes fluttering, and went back to circling the front of the place. The door in the back opened and another waitress exiting, holding a tray on her shoulder and giving various people a sandwich or fries. Another waitress exited the bar, which had no alcohol, and placed a cup of coffee next to the kid with the dragon on his arm.

I then called her over and she rushed over, pushing her glasses up her nose, and asked what I would like.

"A coffee, please," I said real nice. I wasn't a bad kid. I was, or am, just impulsive. Sometimes I don't think things through and I end up hitting people or getting too angry. But sometimes I really am a bad kid. I got a thrill out of breaking that kid's nose or making someone feel so bad they had to cry precious saline tears. The waitress brought my coffee over ten minutes later, just as the front doors opened and Matthew walked in.

He spotted me and sat down stiffly, apologizing in a choked voice about being so late. He kept his head bowed, holding his arm.

"What happened?" I asked, my blood already boiling. He had been hurt.

"Nothing."

"Something happened."

"I said it was nothing."

"Not how I see it."

"Well you're seeing it wrong."

"Show me your face."

"No."

I reached over, sick of this back and forth crap, and touched his chin. He flinched but didn't fight back.

His hair parted from his face like a curtain unveiling, and I could look at his face real well. His eyes and cheeks were bathed in tears. One tear drop crept down his face and pinched off from its kin, falling down and shattering on his arm, where he held it and blood welled from some wound. His lip was cut and his nose had been bleeding. Now blackened mess stuck to his nostrils. Across his face drawn in black marker were some nasty images. There was a large portrayal of a man's genitals and scribbled everywhere were nasty derogatory terms. I took my napkin and taking the glass of water I didn't remember ordering, I must have done so when I came in, and dabbed the napkin with water. Then I put it to his face. He winced again but then went still. As I wiped away the images and words he started to relax bit by bit. His shoulders slumped down and his eyes shut. It took fifteen minutes but I managed to wipe everything off. I don't know why it didn't occur to me to take him to the bathroom. Or maybe it was so that he wouldn't have to look at himself in the mirror.

I wiped his tears with my thumb, my calloused skin tugging at his but he didn't once complain. Finally he opened his eyes and looked at me with gratitude. I ordered him a hot chocolate and he smiled at that. "Thank you." He said.

"Where are your glasses?"

He pulled them from his pocket, crushed and snapped along the bridge. I couldn't fix it no matter how hard I tried.

"I'm sorry," I said, giving them back to him.

He pocketed them again and shook his head. "I have a warranty on them. It's nothing."

"Now tell me what happened." I said. The waitress, with surprising quickness returned with his hot chocolate. It steamed and the marshmallows bobbed on the top, their sides melting into sugary froth. He held the cup to his body, warming his hands on the sides.

"I'll start crying."

I didn't like it when people cry.

"That's fine." I said.

"I was leaving my house to come here when some of Alfred's so-called 'friends' ganged up on me. I was worried since I was already a little bit late. They cut my lip and arm," I took another napkin and wet it, having forgotten the wound there, and took his arm to the table. I dabbed the cut. Thankfully it wasn't deep. He watched me before continuing, "Then they pinned me down to the ground and drew on my face. I could feel the words they were writing and I wish I didn't. They said it was for getting 'hot' with 'that stupid idiot'. I said I didn't care and that I don't think he's stupid. Then they insulted you and called you some mean names I can't really repeat. They insulted your parents, too. After they left since my brother was exiting the house, I ran. I didn't want them to get tangled up with my brother. My brother's already hassled so much. He has to apply for college and has so much stress already loaded on him. I didn't want to worry him. I'm sorry for being late…"

"It's fine." I said and crushed the bloody bandage. The blood already started to clot. I asked for another napkin and the waitress obliged.

"You're good at this," he said, nodding at his arm.

"Yeah, I've had a lot of practice," I said. I tried to smile but instead I leered. I rolled up my sleeves and showed him my forearm. There was a long scar from the elbow to the wrist, ropy and ugly like a snail's trial if it could dry up like glue. Then I pointed to a black, gnarled mark from a burn. "I get beat up a lot. And thanks, by the way, for saying that I'm not stupid. I am, though."

"No, you're not." Matthew said so suddenly and hotly that I was afraid to retort and tell him the truth.

"Also, I wish I could help you with those goons. They're idiots. I can't beat them up, though. They're too big and if I get in one more fight they'll probably throw me in jail."

Matthew said nothing.

I laughed dryly. "Sorry. I realize that you probably don't want to hang around me anymore after that."

"No, that's not the case." Matthew said and the waitress returned. I tightened the slipshod gauze around his arm. His arm was thin. I could wrap my fingers around it and have my thumb and forefinger overlap.

"But you…" I trailed off.

We didn't say much. I paid the bill and we parted ways with a wave and nothing more.

For the next few weeks he visited me after school and we walked around the park and bought ice cream cones and ate them on the bench or we went back to the shady café. Sometimes I took him to the cinema to watch a flick. Some days all I could do was make sure he made it home safely and then scurry off to work. He didn't have a job except getting good grades. His parents never complained, he said.

"They don't really care about me." Matthew explained. It was a Friday night and we had watched two movies and now, in the dark, were sitting by the fountain in the plaza where the theatre and a bunch of health food stores were. The theatre here showed reruns so it was cheapest. Matthew didn't mind.

"I doubt they do that. You get good grades. They must love you." I said, holding out a popsicle even though it was chilly out. He took it anyway and thanked me. I sat down. He tightened his sweater, the one with a big red leaf on it.

"No. They love my brain. I really don't matter. I tell them I went to the movies and they said good for me. They're busy with Alfred and his papers. I suppose until he leaves, no, even after he leaves they'll worry about his grades there. They don't really care much since they think I'm well off. I'm not complaining about that, really, I really can fend for myself. But sometimes you want a little care. Sometimes you want to feel like a kid. You know? Anyway, since I'm out to the movies and all Alfred thinks I'm with a girl. Our days out really do seem like dates, don't they?"

"Yes, they do." I said. "But it's a middle ground. I can't afford anything other than that and I doubt I could fit into whatever you do and you wouldn't want to see my old friends. I guess they aren't friends since I got in trouble a week before I met you. They got sent to juvy and the ones that remained disbanded." I trailed off, looking at the popsicle as it began to melt in my hands. I popped it in my mouth while Matthew spoke.

"I don't really do much for fun. I stay at home. I don't have friends either. I have people around me that are okay being within a five meter radius of me, but after that they're no good. I can't talk to them as freely as I talk to you."

"Is that why you agreed to be my friend?"

"I thought I'd give it a shot. What you said made sense, too, to my brain with all those lousy chemicals firing off crazily."

I smiled. He had a way with words.

"But it must be real nice being so smart," I returned.

"Sometimes it is. But I'm not good at any one thing. My strengths are so spread out. I can do math, science, writing, and all that but I don't have one certain talent. It's pretty hard when it comes down to it to choose what I want to be. I can be anything, they told me, but I don't know. I don't really like it all. I like learning but there's nothing I want to devote myself to."

"At least you have options. There's nothing I can devote myself to except my current job and maybe woodshop. You know kids like me are stereotyped to be good at it?"

Matthew grinned. "I tried woodshop. I got a splinter and cried. Isn't that stereotypical?"

I laughed good and hard. He laughed too, so it was alright.

"You're the Brain, so what am I?" I asked him. I could smell him from this distance. He smelled like the artificial fruits in his popsicle and of books. I liked that smell. I must have smelled like metal and fruit. It fits, doesn't it?

"The Brawns?"

"I guess so."

Matthew tossed the popsicle stick, now nothing but a sticky piece of wood. He shivered and brought his hands around his waist. I had seen this a thousand times in the movies.

I pulled off my jacket and put it on his shoulders but he laughed so hard that it slipped right off him. I put it back on. It really was cold, especially after that cold treat.

"I knew you would do that. You're a hopeless romantic, aren't you?" He said, wiping the tears that came from laughing so hard.

I blushed and turned away, curling my lip in and embarrassed.

"It's nice, though. I kind of like being the hypothetical 'girl' in this scenario. It's not accurate, but so what? We could switch roles."

I remember now that he had set it in his head then and there that he would be my boyfriend. I didn't realize this at the time so I just gave a short, broken laugh.

When it got dark enough for the streetlamps to turn on, I led him home. We went through a detour in case those goons were waiting to pounce on him. Overhead the sky towered, empty of stars from light pollution, and vacantly engulfed the world into its vault. Matthew slid his hand into my pocket and took mine. His fingers were frigid. I didn't move my hand for some time, until we were halfway there and I uncurled my fingers and took his in mine. It felt good. I didn't want him in bed. I wanted him in my arms.

Finally we reached home and, parting was such a sweet sorrow. I told him I would see him tomorrow.

"No, tomorrow is Saturday."

"I know." I smiled.

He went home and I did too. I crept into my bedroom through the window. Downstairs the TV was blaring and I could smell the hot stench of whiskey. I shuffled off my clothes and slid in bed. I realized someone was there. I lifted the covers and saw my little brother Ludwig already there. Ludwig was in his monster-truck PJs and curled up in a tight ball. He looked over at me, his blue eyes teary and a black mark across his cheek. His blonde hair hadn't been cut in a while and hung over his face. I sat down and propped him up, watching him in the bluish darkness infiltrated by a strip of yellow light from the hallway leaking under the door. He sat up. His forehead was burning hot.

"What's wrong?" I asked. He never came into my room unless something really bad had happened. I whispered even though the TV would drown out any words even if I yelled.

"I came here and you weren't here. Papa hit me." He pointed to his cheek. It was red around the black. I licked my thumb and rubbed away the black stuff. It turned out to be soot.

"What did he hit you with?" Hell, he never hits Ludwig at all. He loves Ludwig. He must remind him of Mama or something.

"The fireplace poker-thing," he made a vague motion with his hand. He rarely spoke and when he did, usually to me, he used as few words as possible.

"Why?"

"I was crying because some kid stole my lunch. I tried not to cry in front of Papa but he saw and hit me, saying it was 'like a girl to cry and not for boys like me.' He said that if I wanted to be a man I should stop sniffling."

"I see." I was angry, now. I stood up and tucked Ludwig in. "I'll take care of him. You sit down here and sleep. I'll protect you. Remember? Big brother will always protect you." I patted his head and turned. I went down the hall way. It was stained with thing I never wanted to see. I usually didn't venture to this part of the house. I stuck to my room and exited there through the window, since it was only one story, or I sometimes went into Ludwig's room. He had only one friend who moved away and he was lonely. It was my job to take good care of him.

I entered the living room. There he was. Repulsive and ugly and belching with a dozen bottles lined up on his belly and on his bed. He was sleepy and laughing at the TV, pointing at it and snorting, rubbing his nose. I hated him. He used to be so nice and caring but when Mama left he reduced himself to this to sort with the pain. I understood it all but it didn't stop me from hating, loathing, despising his very guts.

He looked up at me with bloodshot eyes and stood, holding fireplace "poker-thingy" in his fist.

"Well, if it isn't my fairy son." He leered.

I stood my ground. He once caught me eyeing a boy as a kid. He said nothing at the time but he must have held it in his head since then. He waved the stick before him, brandishing it like a sword.

"Why have you come home? To get a dress from your mom's drawers? You can't! I burned them all. Or have you come to get your cry-baby brother? He'll never be a man." He continued to say so many things. They slurred in my brain and all I remember now is pain so big and overwhelming that I lunged at him with my fist. The next thing I knew was a sharp, stinging pain and a clapping sound. The next thing I knew I was on the ground clutching my ear. It was bleeding. The blood ran freely between my fingers, hot and smelling metallic. He stumbled off into the kitchen and clattered around, still flinging insult after insult at me. I rose and returned to bed, locking the door and pitching a door in front of it. I went under the bed and retrieved my first-aid kid a friend gave me long ago. He knew how often I got hurt. He gave me it wordlessly but I knew he understood.

I tended to my ear while Ludwig sat up in bed. His eyes glowed white. He listened intently to the fumbling sounds of father.

"He's not coming here. He'll pass out soon." I said. Ludwig said something but I couldn't hear. He said it so quietly and half of my orifices used to listen were blocked.

"Just go to sleep for now," I said. He nodded and fell asleep.

I did too, holding him close in case father really did change his mind. He didn't.

When I woke up Ludwig was already gone. I was hungry. Usually I skip breakfast, to not go down those vile hallways, but now I knew that father was probably already at work. I dressed and went anyway, finding some of Ludwig's cereal and had a bowl, making a note to buy him some in return. It's just how it supposed to be. I wouldn't steal from my brother without returning the favor somehow. Or maybe I would take him on a trip.

For the rest of the day I wandered around the streets, free from the restrictions of carrying a pocket knife. I wasn't going to knife someone but I wanted it there just in case. I didn't have work.

I bought a chocolate bar, the kind that Matthew liked, and went to his house. He was in his room, I could tell from the parted curtains. I picked up a stick and threw it at the glass.

Nothing happened.

I picked up another and threw it harder.

Finally the window opened and Matthew looked down. He was in a white undershirt and his hair was tied back.

He smiled at me. "Hi!"

"Hey," I said and beckoned him to come down.

He shook his head. "I can't. His friends are coming."

"I'll take you to a very special place. Get dressed, I'll wait."

Matthew hesitated, then gestured that he would be there in five minutes. It took four minutes for him to dress and visit me outside. I gave him the chocolate bar and he gave me another grateful smile. I took his hand and led him back to the park. Except this time I took another road and went to the part of the park filled with trees. He followed along, devouring the bar and tossing the wrapper, holding my hand. His fingers were warm this time. His fingers were short. I doubted he bit them but rather kept them trim by excellent personal hygiene habits.

Finally I ended up in a small clearing. The gnarled roots of pine trees protruded from the ground, making a small and cramped circle in between. I sat down and Matthew plopped down by me. I lay back, looking up at the circle of blue sky overhead. Fleecy clouds drifted by and the sun was hidden by the leaves. Light filtered down and spotting our clearing like flecks of gold.

"It's not as pretty here as at night. Here, you can see the stars. Remind me to take you here some time at night." I explained, closing my eyes.

"How do you know of this place?" Matthew asked, crossing his arms behind his head.

"Once when I was really upset I ran away from home. I kept running until I reached the park. It was a cold autumn night and I barely had a jacket. I was so upset that I dashed right into the forest. I forget why I was so upset. I think father had yelled at me or maybe some kid insulted me… either way I can remember how I felt. I reached the forest here in the back of the park by aimlessly wandering, like a soul searching for a host. I came across this clearing and I was so tired that I dropped. I could see the stars and I could think. So every time as a kid when I got mad I came here. It got me out of trouble until I wasn't allowed to run anymore. It's a special place."

"That's such a nice story. You should write a book," Matthew said. I opened my eyes a bit and saw him resting comfortably by me. He wasn't touching me, but I could feel his body warmth.

"True… but you know this town is changing. This forest was bigger before. All I can do is hope that they don't demolish this clearing. At least, not until I'm rotting in the ground. But, no, I don't even want that. I want people in a hundred years to find this place just like I did."

"What was the saying? 'Men are wise when they plant trees that they will never sit in the shade of'? I don't know, but you remind me of that quote."

"I'm not wise."

"Likewise you're not smart. You know you are."

I shifted on my side and Matthew eyed me carefully.

"Do you really think that?" I asked him.

"Yes."


	4. It's Like a Dream

**4.**

**It's Like a Dream**

Sometimes I wish I had never met Matthew. Sometimes I wish that I never said a word to the nerdy kid right next to me. He would have perished that night maybe on a string maybe on a blade but he would have escaped my life and I wouldn't have known anyway. Without Matthew I would have been a different person too. Sure, I would have suffered less. But without him I would have stayed grumpy and vulgar and I'd never have written a single word down and noticed just how easily they come.

After I took Matthew to the very special place for the first time, our relationship changed. It got deeper and it felt as though some door had opened and a hallway between us could easily be crossed. When he touched me it was like electricity coursing through my veins. When I looked at him I felt fire burning in my eyes. When I touched my lips to his, the first time being as we parted after the second time we went to the very special place, on such a beautiful night to with stars glittering overhead and the new moon there but not, my lips felt like they weighed nothing but at the same time dragged me down. I held his face in my hands, bringing his mouth closer to mine and closer and closer until we touched and I could feel all those things I had heard.

I felt the spark and the leap of my heart. His lips were dry but so were mine, and neither of us cared. We just kissed contently, for what felt like a brief year, and then he parted and I dragged myself home.

That night Ludwig slept in my bed again. He cuddled up to me and he could feel how happy I was, even though he was sobbing. I held him close by his quaking shoulders.

The other children had teased him about his lack of a mother, his father's drinking habits, his gay brother, and his own incompetence. I didn't know how these kids knew all this or if they even knew what they were talking about. Maybe their older siblings jeered a thing or two and it poisoned them and then they flung it back at Ludwig all the toxicity intensified by their tender age. Ludwig didn't understand all they said and he understood even less why my sexuality was a bad thing and he wanted his mother back and he wanted father to stop.

"Shh, West," I said with my nickname of old, "It's alright. They didn't know what they were saying."

Ludwig nodded and turned his head up at me, his eyes bathed in tears and his nose runny. I plucked a tissue from the table and wiped his face. His red cheeks burned against my fingers and I hugged him until he fell asleep, petting his hair.

Once he fell asleep I tucked him in gently and stood up. I went to the doorway and opened it a crack, looking down the hall. Father was there as always.

The next day at school I brazenly and openly went to Matthew and talked tenderly to him. I greeted him with a kiss, ignoring any prying eyes. Which, actually surprised me since most of his locker neighbors giggled in a sense of glee or blushed, looked away—and some others simple glowered. I didn't particularly mind. I kissed him again as he headed off to class, watching him lovelorn.

After school we went to the park. It was starting to get colder so instead of the park I took him to the café again. We had coffee and then, since he had homework to do, I took him back home, kissed him again, and waved goodbye. The kisses were so sweet. I wondered if he enjoyed them as much as I did.

I know, at least, when I had them that I didn't care if I never got even one step further with my tongue. His lips and hands were enough. I didn't want any of his body. I wanted it, of course, but if the opportunity never presented itself I would never force it. I cared more about Matthew's level of comfort than of my need.

Snow fell heavily and we had a snow day when a blizzard began. The white flurry tumbled down and blurred the streets, rendering them as nothing but blank sheets. Ludwig went into my room again to do his homework. He progressively spent more and more time with me. I wanted Matthew by my side so we could cuddle and watch the snow with him. The fantasies swarmed my brain like buzzing bees bringing honey to their dearest queen.

"Gil?" Ludwig piped up, looking over at me.

"Yeah?"

"Do you really love him?" Ludwig knew about Matthew. I had told him and he had met Matthew once. Matthew, a few days before, wanted to see my house no matter the consequences. So I took him over briefly. He met my brother and Ludwig was impartial but he didn't dislike Matthew. Matthew and I then went away.

His question caught me off guard. I knew that "love" is not something teens are supposed to understand. But, maybe I did.

"Yes. I love him very much." I said.

"As much as you love me?"

"I love you in a different way. It's incomparable."

"All right."

I walked back over and hugged Ludwig briefly to my side.

The next day went on as usual, except with a few inches of snow to trudge through. After school Matthew said he had to go home and prepare for a project so I kissed him and said that it was fine.

That was the loneliest afternoon I had known in a very long time.

The weeks continued on until the winter began to thaw and spring insinuated its arrival with bright skies and budding flowers.

On a Friday night, Matthew invited me over at night.

"My parents won't be home." He said.

I went over after school and he let me in through the front door. Average suburbia, as said before, and he offered my dried mangoes. I ate them happily. His brother was at a party with his friends to end the season of some sport and his parents were at some dinner party.

He kissed me hotly, hotter than I knew he could. We did it on the bed and then he, lying on me and hugging me tightly with his hair over his face, closed his eyes and spoke to me.

What he said never left me.

"We don't match. What I mean to say is that I want to tell you why I wanted to be friends with you, and why I broke down all my walls to love you. If you had known me before I would have been scared but I would have done the same thing, but I never would have loved you. In a way you showed me how to take a risk and to trust myself. I was looking for my opposite anyway. I didn't want someone intelligent in math and science. You're intelligent, but in a different way. You know people. You know how to live… But you're also loud. I'm quiet. You're brave. I'm always so afraid. And what's more you didn't dismiss me. You looked right past the outwards things like my grades and my looks and bore right into me. I don't know how but you cut me in two and looked inside me in a way I'd never known. It made me safe. What I'm trying to say is thank you for everything you've done. Gilbert," he opened his eyes and looked up at me, his soft eyes meeting with my red ones, his fingers laced with mine and his heart beating so close I could feel it in my skin. "I love you."

He'd never said that before. I smiled and kissed him before responding.

"And, I love you."

* * *

_Thank you very much for those reviews!_


	5. Bone Dry

**5.**

**Bone Dry**

We towered above them all, Matthew. We were giants among men, men among mice, and we loved it. We stood tall and proud. When that eve of our prom we had some of our friends in the limo your buddy brought for his girlfriend, do you remember that? You must remember how we sat in the back after the party, well into the night. While they slept we kissed and explored our bodies. Nobody cared because they were either drunk or amused or both.

Remember when Alfred graduated? We sat in the back like an old married couple. I met him a day before officially and he liked me enough. He patted me on the back and I thought I had a bruise. Remember that? He was big and tall and broad. He went to some fancy college on a sports scholarship. I remember when you got the news. You were so happy, and so was I.

Then that summer after our junior year we went to the lake together. I got a huge sunburn on my back and you applied cream so it would stop smarting. Your hands were like silk and you scolded me but I didn't care. The cicadas sang all night and we, in that cabin with a few others, enjoyed the sweet nighttime.

Remember when you showed me to your parents? They were happy. Your mother cried and hugged me, thankful that someone had found her son likeable. Your father was happy you were happy but he was cold to the idea that you didn't have an actual wife. I was not female. He warmed up soon enough, I'm sure.

My father never found out. He was jailed and Ludwig lived with your parents for a little while. I didn't get in trouble. I had undergone a change.

You changed me.

I remember when at nights you would lie by my side and play with my chain, the black cross that hung there, and I said I would give it to you, but you refused. Your fingers still felt like silk. I couldn't kiss you enough.

Even when we got in fights it was such sweet sorrow. We argued over petty things and you nearly broke my head by throwing a phone and then a shoe, but then we would make up right away. I didn't know if I could live without you. Hell, I didn't know how I could live without meeting you.

You mean that much to me, Matthew.

You stopped making me feel bitter. You made my at-home troubles seem like nothing. You made the winters cease being cold and you enlightened the world with your inborn kindness, your empathetic personality, your patience, your way of handling me even when I was ready to kill someone from rage. You made me feel worth something. I realized I didn't need some great achievement or good grades to make me feel special, you did all that.

Remember when I proposed? It was after our graduation ceremony, after your speech. Oh, what a speech that was. You went up on that podium, the gown rippling in the hot sunshine and your glasses tinted with the glare, and your hands trembling from nerves. You were the top of the class. You cleared your throat and spoke.

"Hello, class, my fellow students. I suppose this is the time I talk about my four years here and what it meant to me, but I realize that I would bore you all to death. I think I'll talk about one day instead, and then give you a brief overview of the rest. I was down. Sure, I had good grades, but they don't matter. They don't matter when the sky is weighing on your back as if you're atlas or when your brother overshadows anything you do with his monumental victories. It doesn't matter that you know Latin better than anyone when you don't have any friends who you know you can trust and you can always look towards when you need help. That's when I decided to kill myself. I had everything ready and then, in the office as I prepared to withdraw, I met my boyfriend. I don't care what you say about it, but it's the best thing in the world for me. The sky was falling and he shouldered in, picking it up on his haunches even though he had a thousand and one other, bigger worries to worry about. His father was drunk and his little brother had no one to care for him, but he helped me so shamelessly. I was so surprised when he spoke to me that I decided to give myself a little chance and it was the best chance I ever took. I was never happier. We went on with our lives and everything continued to get better, even when bad things happened, and it all made me think about the purpose of high school. Sure you're here to learn, but not just academics but also about life 'cause you're growing constantly and it's hard and if anyone helped me the most it's Gilbert. He helped me with everything and I love him desperately for it. I love him more than anything you can imagine. I never knew that you could love someone so much. I didn't know human bonds exist like that…"

He went on to thank the other students and to thank the teachers and to say how he will miss everyone. Tears glistened in his eyes and his fingers stopped trembling.

After he finished I swept him off his feet and I kissed him hard. Then I dropped to my knee, holding him and trying not to cry. I picked up the box from my pocket and proposed to him like all those lovelorn teenagers. I wasn't the only one. Boys prepared to their girlfriends and girlfriends to theirs. Matthew said yes and I cried even though I couldn't help it.

We married and at that ceremony no one from my family was there but Ludwig, growing big and strong, smiling brightly at me. His jaw was getting broader and his muscles strong. He was a fine man and I knew he would be just fine no matter what happened, he was a stone wall that never shattered and if it did those cracks would have someone fixing them and calming them.

If there is one thing father did before drinking himself towards the theoretical bucket and kicking it, it was a few nights before. I was in my room doing homework, preparing for finals, and he called me over. He was sober. His eyes were dry, but his cheeks bright red and he was so sad I almost felt bad for him. He was once a brick wall. His wife's death broke him and then everything tumbled down more and more until he was a pile of rubble covered in a film of frost and snow. He said two words and that was the last I heard of him.

"I'm sorry."

I was sent to Jennifer shortly after we graduated, since I wanted to get into college and I had a bad record. I said before that this was the option other than jail and I meant it theoretically. This isn't how I'm getting into college either, this is to help me cope. Ludwig tries to help but he has his own things to do. I went to college for some time but I couldn't do it so I returned and we lived together near yours so I made money at a constant job fixing cars and I made a decent amount and you would have made so much more.

I remember when you got sick. It was just a light cold and I had to take care of you.

But then you got sicker.

Sicker and sicker and sicker.

The toxic fangs of grippe biting into you and tearing your flesh and biting into your bones and destroying you until you could hardly drink water and I had to leave work to help you. I didn't care. You were destined to get better.

Do you remember when I walked out in the snow alone?

Of course you don't.

That's because you died the day before.

I cried so hard I couldn't see. Jennifer was contacted by Ludwig since he didn't know what to do. She had the project ready since I was in the office when I met you. That is what this was supposed to be but it became a way to cope, as I said before.

You died in my arms. I don't know what part of you gave up first your heart or your head, but I'm certain it's your heart because your head clearly told you mouth to tell me that

"I'm bone-dry, Gil."

And that

"I'm sorry."

And that

"Gil, I love you."

And something else I couldn't quite catch because you slipped away from me and then I didn't know what was happening. Everything was destroyed in a moment and I was left alone in the world. My bones hurt and I couldn't stop shaking.

Then I walked in the snow alone. It came down lightly, soft flakes that melted right away. The clouds hung overhead, wispy at the ends and thick in the middle, covering the entire snow and glowing with some ethereal power. I looked up and let it come down. I was in my coat and scarf but I was barefoot, since I didn't care much anymore.

After that I met Jennifer and after a while she convinced me to write our story down. It's too short to be a book, but it could be a short story in some magazine. Not that I'd give our precious story away, Matthew…

So did you shake hands with a man on fire?

* * *

_Yes this was very short, and I apologize for that, but I wanted to get my message across since I knew this story wouldn't gain much popularity anyway. Still, thank you who did read it for reading. _


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